


The Fallen Who Do Not Mourn

by downpourcity



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downpourcity/pseuds/downpourcity
Summary: [Based in the Blackbird universe]Amélie Lacroix was a carefree woman, who was in love with a man with a big heart. It was only until the voices and bruises started showing up, that he realized, he had married a stranger.





	The Fallen Who Do Not Mourn

She would walk down the crisp halls, delivering her wishes of health and happiness. She would conversate with the best of heroes, and spend the longest of times with her dear husband when he wasn’t away. The long haired woman could be found watering various plants kept around her house or baking or dancing around to an imaginary tune. Her life was carefree on the outside, and most loved her for it. She always had tried to be the highlight of someone’s day, it was her mission.

However when things got tough for her dearest Gérard, things began to get stressful. The first sight of him being injured created a tightly bonded hand of fear around her neck. She loved what he worked towards, but she didn’t want to lose him in the process.

“That’s irresponsible of you, Gérard.”

**_“Ne revenez pas morts.”_ **

“Je t'aime mon mari...”  
  
When she was alone, her deepest fears would eat away at her until she became a crying mess. She hated feeling so helpless, unable to even defend him if things were to go awry. She was an artist, and had always commit herself to a healthy environment to gain the best outcome. Her life plan seemed to stop working midway, leaving her up a river without a paddle. She couldn’t even get out to swim. The torrent would take her away before she could even come up for breath.

Today he was coming back from his mission, the one he promised would be his last until he could go out again. It was much too dangerous with Talon attempting to take him from her. So he had promised them a little break in the countryside, where she loved it, where she could be grounded again. Where for once she could stop looking behind her at the smallest of noises, and relax. 

She awoke early the next morning, to the bed empty, and the blankets eerily chilled. Bitterness plagued her feelings, leaving her resentful. A burning sensation of fear overtook almost immediately, had he finally gotten so hurt that he-- no. She couldn’t think that way, or even afford to think that way. Instead of calling him, she sought him out, where was her dearest husband, her _best friend?_ She shivered in the cold halls of the watchpoint, wishing they had installed heating. She had always been so susceptible to cold.

Amélie rounded the corner, her fingers skating across the metallic wall. It was so familiar yet so out of reach to her. She couldn’t even imagine his face, she could only feel the edges and curves and slight scruff that sat on his cheeks, she could only feel the warmth of his smile, and see into the deep pools of blue that were his eyes. It didn’t add up into a whole face, only fragments. As if she had cast a portrait of him down, breaking the glass into pieces, the shards ripping him apart.

Her breaths became ragged as she approached his study, fear gripping her lungs and chest, the ice in the air freezing her in one spot, unable to breach the doorway. Why? She had opened this door so many times before. Maybe it was because she feared the man on the other side looked different. That his eyes weren’t blue, that his smile didn’t bring warmth, that his cheeks were smooth, that his face did not curve. That she would look upon a man who saw something forbidden, a man who was stabbed through the soul. And maybe that when she opened the door, she might just die, and land on the floor, and fade into the depths of the soil and the earth and the mud, and be nonexistent. That her love, that maddening love, would be dead and meaningless and never once worthwhile.

She opened the door, the absence of humanity met her face, nothing lay behind the door, his study was empty. Her breath left her lungs, stinging pain and reality hit her head until she grew dizzy, unable to stand. A voice entered the air behind her, hugging her heart, easing her mind only temporarily.

“Ms. Lacroix, are you alright?” His voice was deep, crisp and with an edge of friction. He grabbed her arm gingerly, heaving her back up straight.   
  
“I am fine, I just need to lay down.” She managed a small breath filled laugh, the end of it catching on something.

“Were you looking for your husband?” He moved her around as if spinning her in a dance, steadying her again in front of him with both arms. “He’s not going to be back until the afternoon. They were late because of Talon’s tomfoolery.” 

"So it’s just safety precautions, yes?” She asked, her voice shaking and shattering with every move forward.

“Of course. We wouldn’t want you to end up missing someone in your life.” His voice turned serious, his face deeply saddened. 

“Merci, Mr. Morrison, you are a treasure to this world.” She could feel herself coming back down to Earth. As soon as her feet touched the ground, her limbs felt numb, it was most likely just the stress causing her body to shut down. If she lay down, she would be fine. If anything she could sleep for a few more hours, and then wake to his smiling face. She looked Morrison in the eyes, melancholy now littered his features. Her vision began to fade, she really needed to get ahold of herself. Stress was never good on a person.

“Are you doing alright?” He asked again, getting a better grip on her body.

“I’ve never felt better.” She chuckled, hoping that whatever this was would end. “I just thought I’d stay in his office until his return.”

“That sounds like a nice plan. I’ll help you in there.” He carefully propped her up against his body, walking her into the middle of the office. “Do you think you can make it to his desk?”

“Yes, I think I’ll be fine now, Thank you.” She smiled weakly, as soon as he let go she felt herself plummet to the floor, her hair fanning out around her. The darkness grabbing her body until she felt as though she floated.

Her body was being jerked away forcibly, people shouted at her from different directions, a light was being shined in her eyes until she could no longer make out anything in the dark of the room. Voices echoed in elongated wails, distortion, deafening distortion. Her head ached far more than it had ever ached before, sickness clinging to her stomach, until she wretched forward. A slap hit her face, her body ceased the feeling of wanting to vomit. 

_"I love you my butterfly.”_

She could hear his voice in her head, and she could hear the voice of others alongside it. Another light in her eyes, another added voice, a needle being forcibly driven into her skin. The darkness grabbed her body again, snatching it up in it’s arms, smothering her until she choked awake into a darkened room. She moved her hands up, taking the empty air into her hands, grabbing it and trying to have at it.

A small bright slit of light appeared in front of her, then it grew bigger and bigger until the shapes of people shown through it. She realized she was sat against a concrete wall, her body barely recognized the air flowing through the door. Her mind told her it was cold, but she could no longer shiver. No longer understand and translate the feeling.

People surrounded her, her insides twisting, her ears aching, her eyes slowing their movements down until they blurred past her. They were like slow frames in an animation, each one distorted by the light behind them. The back of her neck ached, her head pounding now, she could feel the cold hit her again, this time shivering. Shivering at nothing.

“Amélie? Amélie!” She felt familiar arms grab her into an embrace, the scruff of his face against her cheek, the warmth of his smile, his blue eyes. They hadn’t changed, he hadn’t changed. He was still Gérard and she was his Amélie. She felt so safe in his arms as she was carried out into the open world, her eyes meeting the sun again. How much time had passed? How much time had she missed away from him? They piled into a dropship, she finally faced where she had been. A warehouse, on the outskirts of town, a town she did not even recognize. The door shut, leaving her in darkness once again, her heart skittering, her lungs heaving, she was afraid.

“Gérard?” She asked in a terrified whisper, her voice hoarse, her lungs burning as if she had screamed. She didn’t remember screaming, she only remembered the voices, _screaming at her_.

“It’s okay, ma chérie, I am here.” His gentle voice calmed her heart, sending her into a state of content. He could calm even the wildest beasts and hush a storm, and bring even the most terrified people back to Earth. He was the gravitational pull and she was the storm.

"I’ll take you home just as soon as someone checks you over.” He always knew how to make things normal again, like bad had never happened in the world.

She closed her eyes, part of her telling her never to fall back to sleep, but the other telling her she was safe. So she drifted off into the world of dreams, to where she was met with the voices. They seemed to always hang in the air, and never quiet. When she awoke again, she was met by the kind face of Angela Ziegler. 

“Good thing you woke up, Mrs. Lacroix. I just finished your scans, you’re highly deprived of sleep, but you can fix that by getting back into your sleeping schedule.” She laughed, offering a hand. She let out a sigh of relief, grabbing the hand carefully. She stood up shakily, immediately her knees buckled under pressure. Gérard grabbed her before she fell, hoisting her back up to meet him. She didn’t care about time, or how long she had been gone, or what happened to her. She faced with her husband, and it made her happier than she could ever describe without saying the same thing twice.

“Merci, Doctor Ziegler, you are a miracle worker.” Gérard said on a sigh of relief, leading his beloved out into the halls and then into the world.

She boarded another plane, yet another safe escort out, how many could she have before she grew sick of them? She couldn’t even bike around, let alone drive a car, or walk a corner without someone with her. Gérard had had fears about her being stolen away because of his head being so greatly wanted. She gazed out from a slit on board, watching as the city dissolved into country and then into more country until she was greeted by familiar hillsides.

The ship made a steep descent downward, the back door opening to reveal a small house surrounded by barren hills covered in yellowing grass, soaked by water. Only one tree sat in front of the house, red and brown leaves falling from it, a breeze taking on the two of them. He led her off of the ship and onto the grass, taking her to the door. Gérard shifted himself around her, guiding his coat around her backside. He kissed her head, grabbing the keys with his hand not occupied by her. He put it into the ancient lock, opening the door. With a click they were met with dusty air.

“When we open the windows it should be as well as it was before we left it.” He assured her, taking her hand. “On we go, my dear.”   
  
“Of course, that would be lovely.” A smile took her chapped lips, she walked into the house she so desperately craved. It was as much a drug as Gérard’s smile. She let go of his hand, spinning into the parlour. It was dark, but even dark things could be turned around, right?   
  
She flipped open curtains, opening windows, letting the light flow in and hit her skin. She noticed bruises on her wrists and arms, her face growing rather fearful. She pushed on them, not feeling the usual tinge of pain. She was curious, and even curiosity would hurt if one pursued it too far into the depths of understanding.   
  
“Oh, that’s strange.” She turned to face her husband, he grabbed her by the arms, looking at her with wide eyes.   
  
“Those Talon bastards…” He whispered, bringing her arm to his lips. He kissed them up and down until he saw red in his face. He grinned, his eyes lighting up with his expression. “I won’t let them hurt you again.”

“So that was Talon.” That feeling of stress gripped her neck again, the voices piercing her head and the space around her. She hissed within her brain, silencing them.

“They even pray on the innocent.” He brought her hand up to his face, looking at every finger, every nick, every bruise, every scrape. 

“You are as innocent as I am, and you always will be. I will never understand why they want something so beautiful off of this planet.” She mused, her eyes looking off into the distance.

This conversation would be the pinnacle of their stay, everything went smoothly for once, and even for a moment she didn’t have to check behind her. She would wake up every morning, make breakfast for two, and sit in the silence of the countryside. If she ever felt afraid she would turn to Gérard and if she ever needed a moment to herself, she would stand in the mist and close her eyes until she pretended to remember a time before the world was in turmoil.

At night she found herself slowly being unable to sleep, in the mornings she could not eat for she felt no hunger and sometimes just sometimes she found herself not taking a breath. Gérard grew worried, finding it odd she suddenly became this way, however he kept his worry silent in hopes that maybe if he didn’t mention it, it would go away.

He sat in his armchair by the large window, staring out at absolutely nothing, a book open in his lap, turned to the same page for hours. A stranger lived in his home, and he was afraid. He would gaze into her soft brown eyes and forget just for a moment that the world around him was slowly but surely crashing around him.

At night he heard her crying, and sometimes he didn’t hear her at all. It was as if she had came and gone from existence with a snap of some cruel person’s fingers.

Everyday the bruising would get worse, and he would grow more and more worried. His blue eyes barely holding their words, barely holding their color, barely even holding him. He put his hand to her face, sliding it down until he gripped the curve of her jawline, tipping her head to meet his, his forehead setting on her’s. She was so cold, the warmth she usually carried had seemed to be sucked from her. Or maybe it hadn’t ever existed before.  

Was she dying? Were these her final hours? Or was he the one fading away? He never knew, and he never asked, the words never properly forming onto his lips and off from his tongue. He didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t either. Words had become rare, and only at times would she nostalgically speak, lamenting about a time long past.

The crying, she was crying again. Tears fell down her cheeks, she couldn’t feel them, she couldn’t even understand what they were. She sat up, not even shifting bed with her weight. She took long strides from the bed to the kitchen. She felt like a phantom, dead to the world. Nothing could ever make up for her suffering, it either had to pay, or step out of the way. She grabbed a knife, running it along her fingers, she didn’t feel it although the smallest amount of blood pooled behind her fingernails and onto the blade.

She walked back to the room, silently, never once saying a word until she hung over the sleeping body of her husband. She noticed as he stir, waking up to her standing over. He was half asleep, and he muttered something on his breath.

“I love you my _butterfly_.” He sat up more, feeling as something cold ran against his cheek. Either he was losing his mind or whoever stood above him had eyes the color of the sun. He felt another cold lengthy feeling against his arm, and then his leg, and then he realized. He would not leave this room, not ever again.

“Au revoir.” She said in a sweet voice, crawling up onto him, grabbing his face into her hand. For a moment, just a moment she saw something. Slight scruff that sat on his cheeks, the feel of the warmth of his smile, and deep pools of blue that were his eyes. She could even hear his laughter and the sound of him breathing softly beside her as they fell to sleep together. As she came out from this daydream, she sat on the floor in another room, she could feel herself shaking, but she didn’t know why. A knock came at the door and she walked over to it like it was natural, like it wasn’t an obscene time in the morning.

She opened the door, and as soon as she did that, she was greeted by unfamiliar voices, and each and every time she awoke, she would know less and less.

Finally after ages of what seemed like just waking up and falling asleep, she awoke to a room, with a woman in it. Who was she? She squinted, her eyes never once daring to focus, and then finally she could see. For a moment she saw his face, smiling at her, and then it was gone, vanished. Who was that? She then sat up, her head spinning and then nothing. She felt nothing but cold numbness. A woman stared back at her, her body a rather odd blue, her eyes yellower than anything she had ever witnessed.

That was when she realized.

She had taken the lives of two people that night, two lovers, two friends...

_And she had felt nothing._


End file.
